You gunned it through the crosswalk.
Sixteen hours on a ventilator so she could be spare parts for other parents’ kids.
Doubt you registered the impact; tracks didn’t swerve or slow down.
Outside your house, eyeing the gun that took her place in the car beside me, I imagine how long I’ll take.
They say there’s only two stories, one about love and one about revenge. I only read the Good Book and don’t worry I’ll see you in hell when I’m done.
What I’m going to do to you is biblical, and that makes me God.